Because I Have my "Plastic Jesus"

I sat with my son, and his friends outside under a full moon sky

listening to them play guitars and sing songs

looking at their guitar cases and how each has its own set of stickers

such a cool and subtle way to show one’s self

And the voice of Spring?

A new friend I feel so lucky to meet

This girl can sing

So beautifully

So harmonically

So soulfully

A luminous rhyme

Golden keys every time

“Hello Darkness, my old friend, I’ve come to see you once again…”

Glowed

Lingered

Wrapped its poetry

Around my sunburned shoulders

“Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain”

Fell like raindrops fall

Down my cheeks

My “tenement hall”

The one from “Cool Hand Luke” about the “plastic Jesus”

I could see the cars with dashboards

rolling down backstreets in every town

“Me and Bobby McGee”

My favorite line ever: “…feeling as nearly faded as my jeans”

I miss those jeans. I still have them. And I will wear them again.

Until… I wear another pair, pull my hair back and wear glasses

As I am now a weed-eating machine owner and operator

Perhaps, no big deal to you or anyone else

But it is my awesome Mother’s Day Gift

A novice for sure because I can look all around and see patches

where I missed

I am convinced a secret dandy lion

lies in wait

blows me messages

little puffs of stuff in the wind

so that as night falls

“Hello [Nyquil] my old friend, I’ve come to see you again”

Still, there is light and time to do the walk around

Something, we always did together

You with a can of beer and me with my glass of wine

Stopping to pull up a weed by hand

Commenting on the status of the azaleas

Puzzling over why certain ones thrive

Before long, rakes and leaf piles

Clippers and lists

Twigs and branches

Roasting marshmallows over an open fire

But it’s just me now

I am doing okay

Thank goodness for friends

Because I clipped the ivy

I clipped it real good

So much so that when I picked up the root vine

A briar shoved its thorn into my thumb

Slashed the side

I know. I know.

I should have worn gloves.

Luckily, I have friends

who have no problem

sticking the needle end of a safety pin

into my thumb

taking a pair of tweezers and pulling that thorn out

like how you finally came and towed the rusty carriage

away -- even though you had promised

100 times before

Tells me

You are gone

Only rusty flakes remain

As I lie awake at night

I think of the weeds left to cut

And wonder how much time

Mama has left

Daddy says Hospice

Is set to come in

“Hello Darkness, my old friend”

Help me make it once again

Remind me to hold my head high

Show me how to fight the tears

Not to be afraid

Not to cry

Not to let those weeds

Choke my daisies

Or make my bleeding heart

Go crazy

Hold my hand

On this journey

Where it leads

I do not know

But it is okay

Even if it’s scary

I will keep

Keeping on

With another

Or all alone

For I have got my “plastic Jesus”